


For Whom the Bell Tolls

by merentha13



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-26 22:41:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9927185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merentha13/pseuds/merentha13
Summary: Written for theSuper15 picfor1000 challenge at ljPhoto by Andrea KennardLink to photo prompt





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for theSuper15 picfor1000 challenge at lj  
> Photo by Andrea Kennard  
> [ Link to photo prompt ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/dreadwear/31731359644/)

For the third day in a row Doyle sat in his car watching the upscale mews, trying to find the courage to ask for forgiveness. It had been three years since he’d last seen Bodie. He needed closure. _C’mon Doyle – if you’re going to do it, get moving._ Doyle shifted himself from the car and walked to the door. He hesitated for several seconds and then reached towards the doorbell. The rich colored tiles surrounding the bell caught his attention. He whistled softly and laughed. Only Bodie would put instructions on a buzzer. _Press._ Doyle shook his head, amused. _You’ve really done yourself proud, mate._ Mate. The hand dropped to his side. Could he call Bodie that anymore?

Someone said doors provided opportunities. Answer the bell and accept the challenge. So he opened doors and took chances. Sometimes it didn’t work out – art school and Ann Holly among the biggest of his missed ‘opportunities’. But sometimes things went right – at least for a while. He’d been content as a policeman - until he could no longer deal with the corruption. The doorbell had rung again and George Cowley was on the other side. A man who shared the same sense of right and wrong, a man who believed in justice for everyone, a man he could trust. In the end that door had closed, too. Manton, Molner, Brian Cook – Doyle began to question Cowley and his own ability to continue in the job. And then his world fell apart. He opened the one door he shouldn’t have, by-passed the one bell he should have rung and walked into his home to find Bodie with Jimmy Keller.

 _Years ago_ , he chided himself. Get over it. Ignoring the slight trembling in his fingers, he pushed the buzzer and was startled by a low voice behind him. 

“About time, Doyle. Thought you were going to put down roots.”

Doyle turned around. “Bodie.”

Bodie looked him over, his lips twitching. “Always wanted a gargoyle for the front steps – as protection.”

“Yeah, probably a lot of low-lifers in a neighborhood like this.” Doyle rolled his eyes offering a tentative smile.

“Well, I guess you’d better come in – can’t have you bringing down the property values.”

An uncomfortable silence grew as Bodie opened the door and led Doyle in.

“Like a cuppa?”

“Ta.”

Doyle studied his surroundings. Like Bodie’s CI5 flats the room was sparsely but tastefully decorated. The much disparaged dancing girls poster was conspicuously missing. Doyle’s lips quirked in remembrance. The bookshelves were filled with the contradictions that defined Bodie – poetry, military history, cheap thrillers. Standing on one shelf was a silver frame. Doyle felt a chill. Why had Bodie kept this? He picked up the picture - noting there was no dust; this had been well cared for – and remembered when it had been taken. They’d just finished an op. Still covered in dirt and grime from the warehouse fire, glad to be alive, one of the police photographers had captured them laughing and holding on to each other. A quickly issued ‘D-notice’ had the picture locked up in Cowley’s office but that hadn’t kept them from a little lock work to obtain it. If Cowley noticed it in Doyle’s flat, he never said. Doyle put the picture back. It _had_ been in his own flat. How had Bodie come to have it?

“I had to clean out your flat after you left.” Bodie handed Doyle a mug of tea and answered the unspoken question. The ability to read each other hadn’t faded with the years. Doyle anticipated the next question.

“I had to leave, Bodie. I tried to explain it to you. You didn’t want to hear it.”

They looked at each other.

“Why Keller, Bodie?”

“I met him in the army. He was two years older, looked after me – me being the new kid and all. We got - close.”

“I know all that.” Doyle looked down at his trainers. “Why in our bed,Bodie?”

“You’d been hell to live with after Cook’s death. I didn’t know how to help you. You shut me out. Jimmy’d been released from prison – got someone to pull some strings. He was leaving for the States - came to say goodbye.” Bodie shook his head. “I should’ve known better. He’s always been able to twist me round.” Bodie rubbed the back of his neck. “He was here, Ray. and you weren’t. I said goodbye to more than Keller that night.”

To break the silence, Doyle slurped his tea.

Bodie smiled fondly. “I’ve missed that.”

“What?”

Bodie waved a hand at the mug Doyle held. “Your atrocious table manners, your horrible fashion sense, your early morning stroppiness-” Bodie took a deep breath, “all of that and more. Why’d you leave?”

Doyle closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. “I’d had enough - of Cowley’s manipulations and triple think, of the politics. I came home that night to tell you I was resigning, leaving CI5 and I was going to ask-” he swallowed hard, “was going to ask you to leave with me.” He stood up and paced. “When I saw you with Keller, well, shock doesn’t cover it. I know we’d only been together a few months, but I thought it was real – forever. More fool me.”

Bodie grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the settee, twining their fingers together. “I’m the fool. I knew you were unhappy, but I wasn’t ready to leave the mob, and I couldn’t face the row that we were headed for. When you walked in that night - Jimmy was a way to avoid it. I needed time to think about it all – decide what I wanted. I never expected you would leave...”

The _me_ missing from that sentence echoed around the room.

“Ah, Bodie. We deserve each other, yeah?”

“Ray, why are you here?”

Doyle moved closer, resting his forehead against Bodie’s. “To ask forgiveness.”

“That was given years ago, mate.” Bodie’s hand cupped Doyle’s cheek.

 _Mate._ And another door opened.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Freetraveller15!


End file.
